Much To Tend To
by TisTheEast
Summary: A missing scene from the end of the very first episode of Ripper Street, "I Need Light," wherein Jackson and Susan look after Rose after she's brought back to Tenter Street. A bit of the Susan-Jackson-Rose triangle with a tiny dash of Drake-Rose.


_Author's Note: Here's another in my series of missing scenes from season 1 of Ripper Street. My aim to do at least one fic for each episode, and I'm pleased to announce that I'm over halfway there. Also, I've had several people asking about Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. Never fear, it is being continued. For whatever reason, chapter has proven a bit challenging, but it's close and I hope to have it to you before the holidays (because that would make sense, right?). Now on to the matter at hand, this one begins at the very end of "I Need Light."_

"Thank you, Drake. I'll tend to her now."

As the sergeant's footfall faded into the hallway, Jackson glanced up from Rose to see Susan looking expectantly at him. After she had gotten Myrtle settled with the other girls only moments before, Susan had questioned the condition of his hand, the bandage once more soaked with blood. He had only replied that he'd need her assistance with Rose, and now without a word between them, it was understood that it was time to get started.

"Keep her still for me," Jackson said, retrieving some instruments from his satchel. "Laudanum'll do the job here shortly, but in the meantime, I'm gonna need you, darlin'."

As Jackson went about his work, Susan helped to the best of her ability, mostly comforting Rose and occasionally fetching something for him from another part of the room. Much of her energy, however, was devoted to maintaining a neutral expression, to not visibly cringe as Jackson spoke softly to Rose using a dozen or so pet names that had once belonged exclusively to her. When the situation seemed at last under control and her patience anything but, Susan excused herself to check on Myrtle.

As she made her way down the hall ignoring whatever Jackson had said about having things under control between his seemingly sweet nothings to Rose, Susan did not anticipate or notice the fact that she wasn't alone until she had nearly trampled the man lingering uncomfortably on the landing.

"Sergeant Drake."

"I had only hoped to ensure that Miss Rose was…

"She'll be quite alright, I'm sure," Susan replied with the cordial, noncommittal smile she typically reserved for Tenter Street's customers. "Captain Jackson will certainly see to it that she's good as new."

Drake nodded slowly as if searching for the right thing to say next. "Yes, well then I best report in to Leman Street. Inspector Reid will be eager to hear of the Captain's work."

The sergeant moved towards the staircase and then turned back to face Susan, "You will inform...the Inspector and I if there's any change in Miss Rose's condition?"

"Of course, sergeant."

By the time Susan returned, a tumbler of whiskey in hand, Rose seemed to be resting comfortably. Jackson, finally beginning to feel the effects of running on sheer instinct for a good portion of the day, was slumped in the chair at his desk. He didn't acknowledge her presence at first; on any other day she would have been sure to announce herself before he had a chance speak and typically she would have included some comment about her annoyance with whatever he was or was not doing. But Susan merely set the the glass on the desktop and brushed past him silently, coming to stand in front of the window with her back to him.

Though he wasn't sure if she even noticed, Jackson nodded his thanks and took a long drink until she finally spoke.

"This...all of this...is my fault."

Jackson sighed, momentarily resting his glass on the desk as he ran his good hand through his hair. "I don't see how that's entirely possible."

Not turning to look at him or Rose, Susan continued, her voice lacking its usual edge, "I sent her off with that man with nary a thought of the consequence."

"It's the business you're in, darlin'," Jackson said taking a sip of his whiskey, which at this point felt necessary if he was to stand and cross the room to where she remained at the window. "I told you that when you started this. Told you again with Lucy. These girls, they know the life they choose."

He pressed the tumbler of whiskey into her hand, standing just close enough to pull her into his arms and just far enough that she could turn and walk away, without ever touching more than the hand that offered the drink.

Susan accepted the glass wordlessly, taking a long sip, her back still to him. "I hadn't imagined it would be this way."

The part of him that was still so hurt, so angry at her for everything and nothing wanted to spin her around and demand she stop talking in veiled riddles, leaving him to wonder whether she referred to her business, to their life in Whitechapel together, or what he had once thought he wanted most in the this world, just the two of them. The rest of him that wouldn't, couldn't ever stop loving her wanted to close the distance between them, whisper comforting words in her ear and never let go. Jackson settled on something he had said to her long ago and had repeated more recently in an entirely different context, leaving it to her to decide his meaning.

"You want out, say the word..it's always been your choice."

She turned to face him, but kept her eyes on the glass, "It's entirely more complicated than-"

"Dammit Susan, it doesn't have to be," he said grabbing both of her arms and then wincing as pain shot through his injured hand.

Susan's eyes snapped to his and without thinking about it, she gently ran a hand over his injured one. They stared at one another for what like an eternity until there was a soft moan from the other side of the room. As quickly as the moment had begun, it ended as Jackson turned strode to where Rose lay with a smile Susan recognized all too well, "Well hello there, beautiful."

Familiar too was the weight that settled in Susan's heart as she exhaled slowly, an exercise that did nothing to stop her chest from tightening, her corset feeling like a cage. Another breath brought the calm she sought, not comforting exactly, but the cold hard focus that had gotten her through numerous days since she had first set foot in Whitechapel; her heart well protected beneath stone. Setting the tumbler back on Jackson's desk, she brushed by he and Rose wordlessly. It was still early, and customers were arriving at Tenter Street. She had much to tend to.


End file.
